


Les Amis de Paris: The Relationship Dilemma

by moriarteries



Category: Les Misérables - All Media Types
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-03-30
Updated: 2013-04-15
Packaged: 2017-12-06 23:48:43
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 2,869
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/741606
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/moriarteries/pseuds/moriarteries
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Enjolras has seriously screwed up another chance to reconcile with Grantaire- surprise surprise.  What is to come about when Grantaire has had enough of Enjolras' shenanigans?  And why has Jehan been dragged in this mess?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

In the darkest hours of dawn, Grantaire finds himself jolting upright out of his cot. Few cracks of lightning shine through his window; the rain sounded like millions of tiny paws scratching at his ceiling. He wiped the sweat off his forehead and returned to his former sleeping position. His thoughts were dancing around his brain, making a fuss behind his eyelids. He quickly turned on his other side, almost flinging himself off the bed. He could not get the events of what happened a few hours ago out of his mind. No matter how much he twisted and turned in his bed, Enjolras’ words were still in his ears.

It was unfair; what if Marius had said that to Eponine? Why get her hopes up if he still loved Cosette? And why toy with Grantaire’s emotions like that? Grantaire rolled off his bed – purposely – and crawled towards the door, not finding the strength to actually get up. He fiddled through the shoe by the door to find his cellphone; no missed calls, no new text messages, no voicemails. He frantically searched for Enjolras in his contacts, relieved when he found it. He clicked the keys swiftly: “I htae you” it read. He deleted the desperate message before sending; for the spelling error, and for the rude tone. He tried again: “Are you awake?” the next text read. He hesitated before hitting send – worried about what Enjolras’ reply would be. Grantaire’s head dropped to the floor, cellphone in hand, and fell asleep.

 

* * *

 

Enjolras awoke with hesitation. He slowly opened his eyes to see a beautiful scenery before him. It was his bedroom, his ordinary bedroom, though it seemed much more magnificent on this morning. The light from the burning sun cascaded down his bedroom wall, leaving a trail of dust dancing in the sliver of sunlight. Enjolras was truly grateful to be in his own bed again; resting on his own pillow, in his own sheets, waking up in his own town – it was truly a phenomenon. Enjolras had been away for 3 months – living his grandmother, who had fallen ill with pneumonia. He was greatly missed among the group, exclusively by Grantaire. Last night was Enjolras’ first day back, surrounded by his friends. How could Enjolras have messed that night (or rather early morning) up so greatly? A faint buzzing sound burst through his sheets; he lethargically searched through the mess of his bed to find his phone. It was Lesgle.

“L’aigle?” Enjolras’ voice sounded drowsy.

“Enjy!” Lesgle cried. Enjolras sat upright, rubbing his eyes.

“Isn’t it a bit early, Lesgle?”

“Enjolras, its 2:30.” Lesgle corrected. Enjolras’ eyes widened; Two-thirty? How could he have slept the day away? How could he have not awaken sooner?

“ _Two-thirty_?” Enjolras repeated in shock. Enjolras hung up the phone, without a goodbye. He sprang to his feet, trying to collect his scattered thoughts. Where was he to meet Grantaire? What time? Oh, the agony – Grantaire must hate him by now. Enjolras had no time for his daily routine - he had to meet Grantaire now, before it was too late. Enjolras rushed to his dresser and flung his tacky shirts to the ground; he hadn't unpacked his luggage yet. Nothing to wear, and he was already late – what a shame. He shuffled into his torn jeans (the only pair of pants he had that were clean), and threw on the best looking shirt in his dresser. He didn't care to make sure he wasn't forgetting anything, for that would consume his time. What time did he have to spare? Enjolras ran out the door, slamming it hard behind him. 

 

* * *

 

Grantaire took his seat in the cafe, in the table closest to the vast window that overlooked the streets of Paris. Jehan was on shift today, filling in for Enjolras.  Jehan kept looking up at Grantaire from the cashier counter, most likely in pity.  Jehan would stop to chat with Grantaire every time he could - which was all day, for Enjolras was suppose to meet Grantaire in the cafe two hours ago.  Since twelve o'clock, Grantaire had ordered 7 cups of coffee.  Jehan warned him to slow down on the consumption of the caffeine, though Jehan had decided not to pester Grantaire too much; it wasn't like Grantaire was drinking alcohol.  The day was winding down to an end, Grantaire would give Enjolras thirty more minutes, then give up hope.  He had no idea why he even bothered with Enjolras; "It's never going to happen," he would constantly tell himself.  Grantaire would beat himself up over the smallest things Enjolras would do or say, but this time was different.  Grantaire was naive enough to believe Enjolras' pleas and lies.  Speaking of the devil, Grantaire saw Enjolras shuffling into the cafe, his luxurious blonde mop was unkempt and wild.  He looked horrid, almost as if he hadn't slept in years.  Enjolras ran to Jehan, grabbing him by the sleeve, as if holding himself up.  Jehan motioned to Grantaire's seat; Enjolras turned on his heel, looking for Grantaire.  Grantaire quickly looked down at his empty cup of coffee.  

Enjolras advanced toward Grantaire, careful not to bump into each table between them.  Enjolras' eyes had a spark in them, though it was not a good light.  It was an untamed wildfire, set ablaze in his gorgeous stare.  His cool blue eyes now turned frightful and lively, like fire.  He took a seat across Grantaire, though R didn't bother to look up; Enjolras frowned.  "Look, Grantaire, we need to talk about last night."  Enjolras finally said.  Grantaire felt forgiving, though angry; loving yet full of hate.  We wasn't sure how to handle this mixture of emotions - was it his subconsious, or the caffeine?  "Wait." Grantaire coldly said, still looking down at the vaccant cup.  Enjolras straightened up, patting down his unruly hair.  "Enjy- Er, Enjolras.  You come here, two hours late, and you don't apologize, nor acknowledge the fact you have kept me waiting here all day."  Enjolras shifted in his chair.  He wasn't quite sure how to respond.  

"Listen, R-"

"No, Enjolras,  _you_ listen.  I'll say what I think needs to be said, and you'll respond.  Got it?"  Enjolras nodded.  "About last night, well last night was just... Unfair.  How could you say that to me?  After you have repeatedly told me, throughout the years, that we can't be together.  And for a moment- I believed it."  Enjolras looked down in shame, guilt was overthrowing his mind.  

"Grantaire, I-"

"I am _not_ finished."  He shot back.  "You can't just tell people that you love them without meaning it.  You can't just... Just get peoples' hopes up over nothing, Enjolras.  Especially me."  Grantaire turned to get out of the stool, Enjolras placed his hand on R's arm.  Grantaire jerked his arm away.

"Hey, wait," Enjolras said as Grantaire got to his feet.  "You're cute when you're mad."  

Grantaire's eyes widened, he looked at Enjolras in disbelief.  "Burn in Hell."  Said Grantaire sharply.  He hesitated, then ran to the entrance of the cafe.  Enjolras sighed and put his head in his hands- how _stupid_ is he?

 

 


	2. Digging Deeper

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Enjolras and Grantaire's outburst did not only disrupt the various customers in the cafe, but also disrupted Jehan and Courfeyrac's flirt session. Courfeyrac yearns to know what happened between R and Enjolras last night, but will Enjolras be willing to tell?

 Jehan leaned on the cashier counter, butt sticking out, legs spread apart. The intoxicating aroma of coffee filled his diminutive nostrils. Business was slow, as usual; Jehan ordinarily got quite furious when business was dragging, though this time he didn't care. Jehan's life had became a shade brighter; a light had sparked within him – and all for a man. His lifelong friend, Courfeyrac, had finally professed his love towards Jehan. In Jehan's eyes, all was good in the world, and he had been reborn. Was this the start of a new chapter in Jehan's existence?

 

Well, Jehan could not let Courfeyrac's beauty bother him now, for Grantaire had stormed in hours ago. This worried Jehan, Grantaire was not usually a man to be so full of hatred. Jehan had tried talking with Grantaire, trying to calm him down. Nothing worked, however; Jehan yearned to know what was going on with Grantaire. He tried calming R down, talking him out of “overdosing” on coffee – of course nothing worked. Jehan had dismissed R's fit of rage, business was picking up and Courf had taken Cosette's shift.

 

Courfeyrac was in the midst of playing with Jehan's newly butchered hair (Combeferre helped Jehan cut it), when Enjolras had scrambled through the cafe doors. This made Courf jump, tugging at Jehan's gorgeous hair. Enjolras' eyes were hungry, greedy, searching – but for what? He scrambled towards Jehan, he seemed distracted. “Where is he?” Enjolras demanded. Jehan waved his hand to Grantaire's table, he already knew who Enjolras referred to when he said “him”. In confidence, Enjolras had told Jehan about his love affair with R. Jehan was the only person around who Enjolras could trust anymore. They had bonded immensely at Combeferre's birthday party, which was good on Jehan's part; Jehan had had a broad crush on Enjolras at the time.

 

After Enjolras clumsily made his way across the cafe, Courfeyrac squeezed Jehan's upper arm. He twisted Jehan around to face him; Jehan blushed. “Who the hell was Enjolras talking about?” Courfeyrac demanded. Jehan broke away from Courfeyrac's grasp, he hates when Courfeyrac tries to be forceful. “If you must know,” Jehan smoothed out the sleeve to his uniform, “Enjolras was talking about Grantaire.” Courfeyrac had a confused look upon his face, “Why would he need to talk to Grantaire?” Jehan tried to fight back a mischievous smile, “To talk politics.” What a lie – Jehan knew what was really going on.

 

* * *

 

 

Jehan and Courfeyrac got back to business soon after Enjolras burst through the door. They had stopped working to take a coffee break. Courfeyrac got a bit of whipped cream on his fingers from his frothy caffeine drink. Being flirtatious, he wiped his fingers on Jehan's pale cheek, making Jehan blush once more. Courfeyrac leaned in for a kiss, when Grantaire erupted, shouting: “Burn in Hell!” in Enjolras' face. Bewilderment took control of Jehan's face, flushing out the pink from his porcelain cheeks. He ran to the cafe doors after Grantaire, leaving Courfeyrac to tend to Enjolras. Courfeyrac eyed Enjolras, they made very unpleasant eye contact. Great, Courf was now required to get involved into another one of Grantaire's dramatic episodes. He rolled his eyes and shuffled toward Enjolras' seat, he paused as he drew near Enjolras. He was amazed – he had never seen Enjolras on the verge of crying. His perfectly sculpted face was now blotchy and red, with angst. Courfeyrac took Grantaire's former seat, he awkwardly positioned himself in the plastic red stool. Enjolras wiped his eyes and sniffled, he tried to straighten himself out. After a while of dead silence, Enjolras finally spoke:

 

“Courfeyrac, what's wrong with me?” He asked.

Courfeyrac smiled, “what _isn't_ wrong with you?” He joked.

Enjolras glared at Courf and continued, “I try and try to reconcile with Grantaire, but I always mess things up. I mean, I don't mean to do these things, Courfeyrac – it just happens. Do you think he hates me? It's not my fault we can't be together,” – Enjolras saw Courf's confusion, but ranted anyway – “Honestly, I don't know what to do. It wasn't just last night, it's every night.” – he paused – “I think... I think I love him.”

 

Courfeyrac's mouth was open in astonishment, what was Enjolras talking about? _Loving Grantaire?_ When did this happen? _How_ did this happen? Enjolras realized that Courfeyrac had no idea what was taking place. His face became clearer, no longer a deep shade of red. “Enjolras,” Courfeyrac said softly, “ _What on Earth is going on._ ” Enjolras took a deep breath, preparing to reveal the circumstances of last night's wild demeanor.


	3. When Grantaire Speaks

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Grantaire confesses last night's love affair with Enjolras to Jehan.

Jehan had his – surprisingly – muscular arms wrapped around Grantaire, Grantaire's head was buried into Jehan's chest. His tears made Jehan's shirt damp, leaving numerous damp spots in Jehan's work shirt. “Jehan, it's not fair.” Grantaire mumbled as Jehan led him to a small table perched outside the cafe. Grantaire's vision was blurred, he could barely make out Jehan's silhouette sitting across from him. Jehan handed Grantaire some napkins, most likely from the cafe. After Grantaire's vision had cleared up, and he was no longer sticky with tears, Jehan spoke up. “Grantaire, what is going on?” Jehan's face was stern, and a gleam of seriousness shone through his hazel eyes. R did not look up from the waded up napkin in his hand, “Enjolras is an ass.” Jehan didn't laugh, though Grantaire didn't want him to; he told Jehan this in great sincerity. Grantaire's lip quivered, Jehan scooted to the seat next to R, sensing Grantaire would begin weeping again. He put his arms around Grantaire once more, this time not letting him go. “What's going on between you two?” Grantaire put his head in his hands and mumbled: “Last night, at the pub.” Jehan shifted his head's placement, from Grantaire's head to Grantaire's shoulder. “Will you tell me about it?” Jehan asked, softly. Grantaire sighed deeply, “I suppose.”

 

* * *

 

It was an hour after Enjolras' plane had landed; Combeferre, Éponine, Joly, Grantaire and Lesgle showed up to greet their friend after his long trip. After catching up with Enjolras, they went to a makeshift Irish pub near the friends' apartments. The pub smelled of stale bread, and the main area was filled with cigar smoke, though they made the best of it. The evening was a success; Combeferre and Joly's quarrels about medical theories were at a minimum, Lesgle's great misfortunes were nowhere to be found, and Grantaire had not consumed a drop of alcohol. It was truly a legendary evening, and when all was said and done, the friends went their separate ways. Combeferre took a drunken Joly and Éponine home, Lesgle hitched a ride with a friendly woman, and Grantaire took Enjolras home.

 

Not a word was said between the two until they approached Grantaire's apartment. Enjolras could not find the key to his apartment, so he decided to sleep over Grantaire's – a big mistake on Enjolras' part. Before Grantaire keyed the heavy, sea-foam green door, Enjolras pushed Grantaire against the wall. Grantaire chuckled, “Enjolras, I know you're drunk.” He tried to push Enjolras' slender body off of his, though Enjolras was persistent. Enjolras' gorgeous locks reflected specs of gold from the dim lighting in the hall. Enjolras pressed his lips against Grantaire's neck, which sent a chill up Grantaire's spine. He pushed Enjolras off of him with great force; he knew what Enjolras was doing. He always plays this sick game with Grantaire, and Enjolras always wins. Enjolras stumbled backwards, almost falling flat on his back. “I'm not drunk,” he assured, “I just missed you greatly.” He lunged for Grantaire again, Grantaire caught him by his wrists and held them tightly. “A few months is _way_ too long to be without you, R.” Enjolras smiled a sly, mischievous smile. Grantaire's cheeks turned red and radiant.

 

Enjolras let Grantaire unlock his apartment door before trying to kiss him again. This time, Grantaire let him. Enjolras guided him towards the large couch and pushed Grantaire down onto it. He sat beside him and ran his hand across Grantaire's broad chest. He started to trace designs into Grantaire's chest, though Grantaire pushed his hand away, and jolted upright. “Enjolras, I _know_ what you're doing, you asshole.” Grantaire tried to push past the beautiful blonde man, though the man used all his force to keep Grantaire in place. “Get off of me,” Grantaire hissed. A sly smile came across Enjolras' face. “C'mon,” he played with a lock of Grantaire's hair, “you _know_ you want me.” Enjolras was right, Grantaire _did_ want him. Though Grantaire was a better person, than to stoop down on Enjolras' level.

Enjolras frowned, then hugged Grantaire tightly. Grantaire had no choice other than hugging Enjolras back. His aroma filled Grantaire's nostrils – he had to admit, Enjolras smelled _wonderfully;_ he smelled of smoke and cologne, Grantaire's favorite.

Enjolras' aroma taunted Grantaire; it danced around his nostrils and made a mockery of his many Enjolras-filled-desires. This behavior baffled Grantaire, so he assumed Enjolras _must_ be drunk off his ass. They sat there on R's couch, soundless, for what seemed like forever. Grantaire stroked Enjolras' stunning mane, while Enjolras mumbled into R's chest. Grantaire wanted the moment to last for a lifetime, though sense reappeared into his subconscious. He shot up off of the couch, “No, Enjolras, I know what you're doing.” He evacuated the room, fleeing into the visitor room and emerging with a green cotton blanket. He threw the blanket at Enjolras' face, Enjolras chuckled. “Gran _taire,_ ” Enjolras said, picking the blanket off his face, “I'm not drunk, and I'm not playing a game.” He sounded sincere, he _sounded_ sober; and of course Grantaire would believe everything Enjolras says.

 

* * *

 

“So, we fooled around,” Grantaire's voice sounded shaky, “And after that, he told me he loved me, and that he couldn't live without me.” A tear fell from Grantaire's eye, he couldn't continue with his story; Jehan understood why Grantaire paused. Grantaire and Jehan sat in silence, until a strong hand was placed upon Grantaire's slumped shoulder. Grantaire and Jehan turned to see Enjolras, and his beautiful muscular stature.    


End file.
